


If the slipper fits

by BaldwinLafontaine



Category: Cinderella (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Cinderella Elements, F/M, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28277115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaldwinLafontaine/pseuds/BaldwinLafontaine
Summary: Eva left her shoe at the ball for her prince to find her again. Unfortunately, the shoe fit her stepsister, and it doesn't look like magic will be on her side this time...
Kudos: 3





	1. One.

Eva was locked in the kitchen. She usually was, yet the situation was never so desperate as this. Her true love was standing outside looking for her, and she was helpless- trapped behind locked doors with a broken ankle and bruised ribs.

Three days had passed since the splendor of the ball, three days that Eva had spent carrying out her duties cheerfully, borne by her joy of that night. It was only a matter of time before the Prince and his retinue arrived at Villa di Angelo to spirit her away.

When the messenger arrived to inform the household that the Prince would be bringing the shoe through their neighbourhood that day, Eva could hardly focus. As she fixed Allegra’s curls, she was daydreaming, humming the waltz she and the prince had danced before midnight.

Allegra was busy with her own daydreams, so did not recognize the song. But her stepmother placed the tune in an instant and rushed to the kitchen. It wasn’t hard for her to locate the other slipper: Eva had carelessly left it by the hearth, where she could see it and dream.

In her rage, her stepmother had shoved Eva down the villa’s grand marble staircase. Each step racked the girl’s thin body, shattering her ankle and leaving countless bruises. It caused her great pain to breathe at the moment; she thought the fall had cracked a few ribs as well. She deserved it, she knew. She shouldn’t have tried to rise above her station.

But now was not the time to be dwelling on that. A short blare of trumpets erupted from the entrance hall. The girl shifted her glance back to the keyhole to behold the scene before her.

A man had entered the parlour and announced the Prince Niccolo --her love. And now he was approaching her step-family, the silver shoe in his hands. She saw the prince survey the prim family standing in front of him with a regal disdain.

"Are these all the ladies of the household?" He asked dully. Eva was sure it had become a habit over the last few days.

Her stepmother, the Contessa Viviana di Angelo nodded. "There are only my two darlings, Allegra and Gianna."

Eva couldn't help herself. Her aching heart thudded against her throbbing ribs. A sigh rushed past her lips. Then, at the shock of pain this action caused, the sigh morphed into a sharp cry.

The Contessa stifled a gasp, but no one noticed her reaction. All in the room were focused on the sounds Eva had made. One of the Prince’s soldiers rushed over to the kitchen door and jiggled the handle.

" _Signora_ , would you be harbouring a person?" The soldier turned back to the door. “Is there someone in there?”

“Yes.” Eva provided the answer that Contessa Viviana was unwilling to supply.

The Contessa had no choice but to retrieve the key. When the door was unlocked, Eva tried to approach her prince, but her stepmother gripped her firmly by the arm.

"Who is this girl?" The Prince demanded. He must not have been able to recognize her, her golden hair tucked under a scarf, her dull servant’s garb a stark contrast to her ball gown.

"Just a servant girl," the Contessa curtly replied.

"Would you care to explain why she was locked away?" One of the soldiers pressed.

"That is simple," Contessa Viviana replied. "She is a troublemaker, and I did not want her to _mess things up_." The Contessa uttered the last words through clenched teeth, her nails digging into Eva's skinny arm. Tears gathered in Eva’s eyes but they did not fall. She had messed everything up. But then--

"I must still try the slipper on her, as decreed," the Prince muttered. "We will get this over with quickly. Sit down, _signorina_."

Eva obliged, freed from her stepmother’s grasp. A flutter of hope danced beneath her bruised chest. Niccolo was going to try the slipper on her! She would leave in his arms, never again to scrub a floor, or scour a chamber pot, or...

She shifted her worn skirt and revealed her red, swollen foot. There was no way the delicate shoe would fit her. And it didn't. Eva’s mouth opened in protest, but she had no words to formulate an argument, an explanation. Her stepmother pursed her lips.

"I am sorry, Your Highness. She is just a common girl, and has wasted your valuable time. Come try the slipper on Allegra's foot instead."

“Your Highness.” Allegra sank into a deep curtsey before settling on the gilt chaise. “My love,” she continued, and all the Prince’s attendants began protesting at the familiarity. Allegra ignored them, and with a practiced move – Eva had no doubt that her stepsister had been rehearsing this moment– she pulled Eva’s slipper from the depths of her pocket.

Prince Niccolo’s jaw dropped.

Eva’s vision swam; the tears that had been pooling now spewed from her eyes. She sank to the floor in disbelief as the Prince placed the slipper he had brought onto Allegra’s foot.

It fit.

Somewhat snugly, but it fit. Then the Prince gently removed the match from Allegra’s hands and sent it to join its mate.

“It is you.” The Prince’s stern, regal features had melted. All he was now was a man in love.

“It’s me.” Allegra’s voice held surprise, though her expression did not betray her. Her hair, immaculately set by Eva’s careful hands, framed her heart shaped face. A face, Eva was loath to see, that Prince Niccolo was gazing into intently.

“You must come to the palace to meet my family. Would it be possible for you to arrive tomorrow?” The Prince’s excitement was contagious; Eva was immune.

“We are at Your Highness’s disposal,” Contessa Viviana purred.

“A carriage will be sent for you at dawn,” one of the soldiers affirmed. “Come, Your Highness. You must inform your parents.”

The Prince straightened, remembering how to comport himself as a royal, but his shining eyes betrayed him.

“Until tomorrow, my beloved.” He clasped Allegra’s hands the same way he had Eva’s the night of the ball, leaving a light kiss on her cheek, before whirling out of the villa with his attendants.

The instant the Prince’s carriage disappeared, Contessa Viviana rounded up the three servants and set them to packing. "We will not need you any longer," the woman announced. "The palace is our new home. The furniture is yours to divide amongst yourselves. The valuables will be accompanying us, so pack them carefully, and don’t you dare try stealing anything.”

Eva was pressed into rigorous packing with the others, and did not have a moment to herself until the night. She curled on her bed, which was naught but a blanket which she spread over the stones near the fireplace. It was hopeless. Niccolo was convinced that Allegra was his love. There was no way she could stop the engagement.

Unless...

She knew her stepfamily would be asleep by now. Eva stood and collected her cloak, making as little noise as possible. Then, just as silently, she slipped out the kitchen door.

The roads were abandoned, but not all were asleep at this hour. As she approached the lower city, the sounds of merriment broke the silence of the night. The taverns were full of music, alcohol, and the relief of the week's end.

There was a man smoking outside The Conquistador’s Chalice, a dog lounging at his side. The dog perked up his ears as Eva approached.

“ _Resta_ Iago,” the man hissed, then looked Eva up and down.“This is not your place, no?”

“I... I’m looking for someone...”

The man scrutinized her as she trailed off. Eva felt like he could see her thoughts. Without asking any more questions, he knew what she wanted.

“The _Strega Cyricana_ is gone.”

Eva backed away from the man and his dog, turning and breaking into a run. She didn’t notice any of her injuries until she was back at the villa. She had managed to stumble into the kitchen before her weak ankle gave out. Lying on the hearth, all of her pain was suddenly overwhelming. No witch meant no more magic. No more magic meant no Prince.

Curled in the ashes, Eva cried herself to sleep.


	2. Two.

_ “Can you reach my bag,  _ per favore _? It has fallen under your carriage.” _

_ Eva couldn’t see the person who was speaking. Her stepmother had piled the hat boxes high, instructing Eva to load them in the carriage before joining them at the jeweler’s. She had managed to stumble her way to the carriage, but was stalled trying to figure out how to open the door without hurting the hats. _

_ “Of course. Just a moment. Would you be able to—“ _

_ But the stranger had already opened the door.  _

_ “Thank you.” Eva stacked the boxes neatly on the seat. “Now, your bag?” She turned to find a very small woman, with knots of silver hair piled on her head. _

_ “ _ Si,  _ I dropped it and it tumbled away. I did not want to scare your horse in reaching for it.” _

_ Eva could now see the dusty blue bag lying just behind Amator’s hind legs. She patted the horse, cooing to him softly as she knelt down to retrieve the bag.  _

_ “ _ Grazi signorina _ ” The woman was rummaging through her things. “You are very kind for one so busy.” _

_ “It was nothing,  _ Signora _. Amator may seem intimidating, but he is a sweetheart.” She reached out to pat the great horse again. The woman continued on.  _

_ “That woman works you very hard. I suppose you are looking forward to the ball. It will make a nice change.” _

_ Eva lowered her chin. Just that morning, Eva had pleaded with her stepmother to allow her to go, after spending all night rehearsing her reasoning. And still the Contessa had refused. _

_ “No. I would have nothing to wear. I would be an embarrassment.” Then she blinked the quickly gathering tears away and straightened her head. “I’m sorry to bother you with my troubles,  _ Signora _. Thank you for helping me with the door.” _

_ “And I thank you for my bag. Here-“ the woman pulled a small card from her bag. “If you decide you need a dress for the ball, come find me.” Then she disappeared into the crowd of the market. _

_ Eva slipped the card into her pocket and gave Amator one last pat. Though she knew the Contessa would be impatiently waiting for her, Eva was in no rush. It was nice to speak with people who were not her stepfamily. She savoured these moments when she could get them. _

_ But this day was not done. She took a deep breath, and headed to the jeweler’s. The Contessa would scold her for dawdling. Which she had. Dawdled, that is. And the Contessa did berate her the instant she stepped into the shop. _

_ “Late again. Can’t you do anything right?” _

_ Eva did not remember the old woman until the long shopping day was over and all of the parcels had been unpacked and put away to the satisfaction of her stepmother. She was readying herself for bed when she felt the card in her skirt pocket. Suddenly remembering the strange woman, she read the neatly lettered script: _

See Sibyl at The Conquistador’s Chalice. To change things. 

*******

“Get in.”

“What?”

“Do not pretend you did not hear me, you foolish child. Get in the carriage.”

Eva stared at her stepmother.

“But why?”

“Because you’re a part of this family, of course. I’m hurt that you’d think I’d leave you behind. You always make me out to be a villain. I didn’t have to raise you when your father died, you know. I should have thrown you out.”

Eva ducked her chin.

She had only vague memories of her father’s first wife --her mother. Her father had talked about her every day he survived her, but Contessa Viviana was the only mother figure Eva knew, and Eva was constantly disappointing her.

On her worst days, Eva contemplated leaving the villa and her stepfamily behind. One day, when she was about twelve, she actually had packed a bag and made it halfway down the drive, before the Contessa had caught her. 

The beating had been terrible, but the worst part had been the Contessa weeping afterwards.

“ _ You ungrateful girl. After everything I do for you, you run away like this? Your father would be so disappointed!” _

Those words came back to her now, standing in the entrance hall before her stepmother.

“Wouldn’t father have been disappointed if you had thrown me out?”

Contessa Viviana grabbed Eva by the shoulders. Eva braced herself, thinking the woman was going to shake her, but her stepmother just sighed. 

“He would have been disappointed in _you._ In your poor manners and impertinence. Now get in.”

The carriage ride was agony. Allegra kept raving over her fiancé, while Contessa Viviana fussed with everyone’s gowns. Gianna propped her delicate chin in her hand, releasing a sharp huff of disgust every few seconds. Eva kept her jaw clenched, and every so often blinked back a tear. The last time she had been on this road...

The castle was the most impressive building in all of Azurre. It was twenty floors tall, and seventy windows wide. Flags bearing the crest of the royal family fluttered from the parapets. It was built of white and grey stones from the distant Drovestugn mountains, and the roof blazed the red of Azurran tile. There was a grand set of stairs that lead up to the ornately carved doors, where the royal family stood. King Eduardo had his arm around Queen Adrienne, both of them beaming down at their future daughter-in-law. Princess Maria, who had married an Archduke of Coriander's Reef, was present with her husband and young daughter. Prince Benedetto, a year younger than Niccolo, nudged his brother’s shoulder, but the elder Prince refused to remove his eyes from Allegra.

Eva felt her stomach do a flop. It hurt her to see Prince Niccolo gazing at Allegra so adoringly. Although, she reflected, many men couldn't keep their eyes off of Allegra. She really was pretty, with her hourglass figure, and shining golden hair. Her eyes were a sparkling blue, and her chiffon dress floated in the light morning breeze. Eva looked mournfully at her own faded brown dress, and tucked her limp blonde hair behind an ear.

"Announcing Lady Allegra di Angelo, betrothed of Prince Niccolo de’ Azurre, and her family, the Contessa Viviana di Angelo and Lady Gianna di Angelo!”

Eva felt her heart beating in her throat.  _ She _ was her father’s only child, the true heiress di Angelo. 

“My love.” Prince Niccolo had rushed as regally as he could down the steps, and bent to meet Allegra’s hand with his lips. “The wait was agony, my lady.”

“I confess I suffered the same impatience, Your Highness.”

“The waiting does not matter now. We have forever ahead of us.”

Eva was now quivering, and leaned against the carriage to steady herself. To have his hands on hers again, to have him whisper  _ my lady, my love, forever _ ...

"Wake up girl!" The Contessa hissed.

Eva had missed the introductions between the royal family and her step-family. Said families were now sweeping back up the staircase into the castle. Contessa Viviana had fallen back to accost Eva.

“Assist with carrying our things,” she waved a bejewelled hand at the back of the carriage, where a flock of castle servants were unloading the many boxes. 

Eva glared at her Stepmother with the pain of her loss fueling her. "Make me.”

Contessa Viviana leaned over so her face was an inch away from Eva's. "Do you really want me to?" She hissed. “Carry our things to our rooms. Do not even think about doing anything else.”

The woman spun and mounted the stone staircase two at a time.

Eva had recognized the look in her stepmother’s eyes, the same as it had been that horrible morning.  _ “Your father is dead. _ ” She suddenly found herself very weak. When was the last time she had eaten? She swayed on the spot. In struggling to get her balance, she put too much weight on her broken ankle. The gasp of pain ricocheted into her bruised ribs. Her sole thought, as the world spun and faded, was  _ at least I don't have to carry the bags... _


	3. Three.

_ “May I have this dance?” _

_ Eva’s eyes slid from the glittering crown, to the emerald green eyes, to the polished boots as she curtseyed before the Prince. _

_ “It would be a pleasure.” _

_ The etiquette lessons had stopped after her father’s death, but the knowledge remained. She found herself swirling around the ballroom enveloped in Prince Niccolo’s arms. _

_ “How is it that I have never seen you before? I am sure an angel such as yourself would have never eluded my eyes.” _

To put it delicately?

_ “I have never been able to attend a ball before.” _

_ The Prince let her spin away from him, allowing his gaze drift over the glittering blue of her dress. He pulled her back in closer than before.  _

_ “I find that hard to believe,  _ stellina _. This is your stage. I was entranced from the moment you arrived.” _

_ “You flatter a humble girl, Your Highness.” _

That was the first compliment a human had given her in years. 

_ “It is more than flattery,  _ cara _. You shine brighter than a thousand diamonds this evening.” _

No one had called her dear since the funeral.

_ “It is an honour to shine for you, Your Highness.” _

_ They twirled from one song to the next, hardly speaking, until the Prince asked if she would fancy a turn around the gardens.  _

_ “I would love to, Your Highness.” _

_ “Please, call me Niccolo.” _

***

Eva awoke with a start, then a gasp of pain. 

"Here, drink this," a voice commanded, and a tin cup was thrust into her hands. She drank the water greedily, and found her strength returning with every sip. When she had drained the cup, she glanced at her surroundings. She was slumped on the floor, propped against some wicker baskets. A young boy stood awkwardly to the side.

"Erm, thanks?" Eva ventured, looking at the boy. 

"No problem,  _ signorina _ . I mean, it was Ricci and Flavio who carried you here, but they had to get back to work, and this was the easiest place to get to.” The boy handed her a spiced bread roll, and a small hunk of fresh cheese.

“Sorry it’s not much. Everyone’s working on tonight’s feast and this was the best I could find.”

Eva felt a rush of affection roll over her. 

The boy turned back to his work while she ate: he was peeling garlic. But as soon as Eva was done eating, he jumped up again.

“Hey, do you want some more water? You inhaled that pretty fast."

"Oh, no I couldn't. I have to go." Eva jumped up, and immediately felt her legs begin to crumble again. The boy rushed over to steady her, despite being two heads shorter than she. "You can't be racing about just yet! Flavio was going to come back with a healer. Your  _ padrona _ can't expect you to work like this!"

Eva pulled away. "You don't know my stepmother," she mumbled. Then, registering the look of shock on the boy's face, she tried to cover up. "Mistress! I meant mistress!" It was too late.

"That’s your family? What are you, the new princess’ sister?"

Eva hung her head in shame.  _ I’m a slave in my own home _ . 

"Stepsister," she spat. "And she will kill me if I don't get there soon. Could you tell me how to find the Contessa?"

The boy gestured to the door. "These back stairs will take you up to the fourteenth floor. You should be able to find your family’s suite from there." Eva started out the door, but as she walked past the boy, he grabbed her arm. "But you’re still hurt. When you get a chance, come back down to the kitchen and ask for Alfio, okay?"

Eva nodded and limped away.

The staircase was wide, with servants in the neat livery of the royal family rushing up and down. A few gave Eva curious looks, but most were concerned with their own tasks. 

Each step on her ankle hurt. She found herself slowing by the sixth floor, clutching at her ribs. By the time she made it to the fourteenth floor, she was exhausted, despite having taken many breaks.

Like Alfio had said, it was easy to find her stepmother’s suite: the Contessa’s voice travelled through the oaken door.

“Gianna, take this to your sister. Then find something nicer for yourself to wear. Can’t have you girls showing up wearing the same colour to dinner with the Royal Family --our new family.”

Gianna slipped out of the room clutching Contessa Viviana’s jewelry box, taking no notice of Eva as she rushed to a room across the hall. 

Eva slipped in through the Contessa’s door before it shut. 

"Where have you been?" Contessa Viviana screeched the instant Eva entered the suite.

"I collapsed. You pushed me down the stairs and starved me, remember?”

Eva’s impertinence earned her a slap across the face. The force of the blow caused her legs to buckle, and she hit the floor.

"And still you have trouble remembering your place. We’re having dinner with the Royal Family, and I have not been provided with a maid to help me dress. Find my green damask.”

Aching and weary, Eva began rifling through the Contessa’s trunks to help her stepmother find the right dress to impress royalty.

***

_ The day before the ball, Allegra was in a panic. The feathered headpiece she had intended on wearing had been left in the windowsill and faded in the sun. Now the blue no longer quite matched that of her eyes. This was decreed Eva’s fault, and therefore Eva was the one sent into town to acquire a replacement.  _

_ The millinery was in a tizzy, full of similar last minute requests and worries from the village girls. The shop assistant barely glanced at Eva, merely waving at one of the shelves in the back. “See what you can find.”  _

_ The stock was limited compared to when they had gone in two weeks before, but Eva found one circlet of beads and feathers, much less extravagant than the one Allegra had picked out, but the exact right shade.  _

_ As she paid for the piece, the milliner offered a tight lipped smile.  _

_ “I told my girl we’d close early today so she could get ready, but I think she’ll be too tired to stay the whole time. She’ll enjoy dinner, at least.” _

_ That thought stayed with Eva as she headed out of town back to the villa. It seemed every girl in the village was readying herself for an evening of enjoyment, even –no, especially—the single working girls. _

_ Every eligible maiden was to attend but herself. _

_ She was in front of The Conquistador’s Chalice Tavern without realizing that was her true destination.  _

_ The woman -Sibyl, her card had said- was at a table near the back, eating from a platter of bread and dates. She did not seem surprised to see Eva, pulling out a chair to welcome her.  _

_ “I wondered when I would be seeing you. Are you still looking for that dress for the ball?” _

_ “Yes. I do want to go. But I don’t want my stepmother to find out. I just want to have one night for myself.” _

_ “That can be arranged.” Sibyl pushed her food away, making space on the table in front of her. Eva thought back to the writing on the card. _

_ “‘To change things’. What do you mean by that?” _

_ “The Drovestugn mountains hide many secrets. The most powerful  _ Stregone  _ in Cyrica was my teacher.” _

_ “Sorcery?” Eva whispered. _

_ “Call it what you will. At home I am  _ Heks _. Here, I am  _ Strega.” __

_ “A witch?” Eva repeated. Maybe this had not been a good idea. _

_ The woman reached into her blue bag. “Please do not be frightened. My tutor can change his own form. I can do much smaller changes.” Sibyl pulled out a roll of yarn, and a small jar full of berry preserves. She opened the jar and tipped some of the jam onto the yarn. Then she started to knit.  _

_ The dress appeared almost before Eva could realize what was happening. Sibyl clicked her knitting needles together with such ferocity that the sound overwhelmed her before the sight did. From the bundle of grey yarn soaked in red jam, Sibyl was creating a satin ball gown. The skirt rustled with layers of lace trimmed petticoats, with matching lace peeking out from tapered sleeves. The dress was a pale blue satin, shimmering like a clear summer’s day.  _

_ “There, you see?” Sibyl tied off the last thread, and gestured for Eva to stand. The girl did so, moving to the other side of the table. Sibyl held the dress up against her to check the size.  _

_ Perfect.  _

_ The woman took back the dress, folding it so it would fit in Eva’s basket.  _

_ “Take this too.” Sibyl handed Eva what remained of the jar of jam. “Put some on your shoes, and they’ll change as well. As for your stepmother, well,” Sibyl glanced down at the bundle of satin. “I don’t suppose she’ll be able to recognize you.” _

_ Eva could barely get her words in order, but once she started saying thank you, she could not stop.  _

_ The witch just laughed. _


	4. Four.

That evening, while her stepfamily dined with the Royal Family, Eva retraced her earlier steps back to the kitchen. It was busier than a beehive, with steam, rich  _ aromi _ , and commands bouncing around the warm room. The di Angelo women were not ordinary guests; Allegra was now betrothed of the eldest Prince, and, if the Prophet decreed, would be Queen as well. 

Even after fleeing the ball, Eva had imagined herself in that role: dining with the Royal Family, being married in the High Temple, attending court...all with her beloved Niccolo by her side.

A maid pushed by her, balancing a tray of dates. Eva realized she had been standing frozen in the entry to the kitchen, lost yet again in her impossible dreams. 

She shifted out of the way, and approached a maid who was refilling a pitcher of wine.

“Excuse me, do you know where I could find Alfio?”

The maid barely glanced at her. “ _ Il mostriciattolo  _ should be in the scullery.” When Eva did not move, the girl added: “The door on the left.”

Beyond the door a short flight of stairs lead to the scullery, which she now remembered. Alfio saw her before she saw him.

“Sit here,” he pulled up a stool, then had a cup of water in her hands. “Wait, I’ll go find Flavio.”

The young boy scampered off. Eva found herself savouring the moment of repose. It seemed only seconds later that Alfio returned. 

“This is my brother, Flavio.” A young man, the taller version of Alfio, offered her a smile. A young woman about Eva’s age was right behind him. “And Ysabella. Ysabella and Flavio—“ The older brother clapped his hand over his younger brother’s mouth. 

“ _ Zitto fratello. _ ” Then, Flavio addressed Eva: “Are you feeling better?”

Eva nodded. The girl, Ysabella, pushed her way closer. 

“Better, maybe, but not well.” She passed over a bowl of soup.

Eva thanked Ysabella and took a large spoonful. 

It was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted. Not only was it her first meal in over a day, but one of the few hot meals she had had in years. She was used to lukewarm leftovers, or bland, quick bites. Here, she savoured each spoonful, noticing every spice.

“It’s creamed mushroom,” said Alfio. “It was leftover from the banquet. Your mistresses don’t eat much, do they?”

“Despite all their demands,” Flavio mumbled, then glanced curiously at Eva. She knew what his question would be before he asked it. “Alfio said the Contessa was your mother?”

“Stepmother.” Eva was grateful for the soup as an excuse not to meet the inquisitive stares coming from all three. 

“Why aren’t you up there eating with them then?” Alfio demanded. His brother half-heartedly shushed him; it was clear the elder wanted to shout the same question. 

Ysabella offered a softer approach: “You do not have to tell us if you do not feel comfortable. We just want to help you the best we can.”

Eva had finished the soup. There was no longer an excuse for her to avoid their inquisition. She took a shaky breath, then looked up to face the three palace servants in their white uniforms. 

“The Contessa never liked me. I’m not sure why. When my  _ papà _ died, she took over our estate, and started making me do more and more work, until...well, here we are. Allegra is going to marry the prince, and I...”

She honestly didn’t know what was going to happen to her. Being in Niccolo’s arms had felt so perfect, but she knew that at that very moment he was dining with her stepfamily, enraptured by Allegra. And so, just when she thought she physically could no longer cry, tears sprang from her eyes.

When little Alfio hugged her, she only sobbed harder.

***

_ She was lucky that the Contessa was so vain --she had hired a gilded barouche with a pair of white horses for the evening, as opposed to the carriage that required only one horse that the family used.  _

_ “Everyone has seen us with that old horse,” Viviana had bemoaned, three weeks before the ball. “This is a chance for you girls to bewitch the princes. I cannot have you showing up in an everyday carriage pulled by a workhorse.” _

_ Eva had no such reservations. She hitched Amator up to the calèche the instant her stepfamily disappeared down the road.  _

_ “One moment, Amator.” She kissed the old horse on the nose once she had finished with his harness, then turned and raced down to the kitchen. She had hidden the basket with the witch’s gifts behind the cruets of oil and vinegar; the Contessa rarely ventured into the kitchen, but Eva had felt safer hiding the items all the same.  _

_ The dress the witch had given her fit like a dream, which she still thought it might be. The delicate lace sleeves hugged her arms, the satin skirt just brushing the floor. Looking down, admiring the gown, Eva noticed the toes of her ratty leather boots peeking out from the pool of silvery-blue satin.  _

_ She kicked off the boots, retrieved the jar of jam and a small spoon. Feeling very foolish, she began smearing jam over her only pair of shoes. _

_ The magic worked. As if the witch herself were still before her weaving her spells, the boots transfigured into slippers of shining silver.  _

_ Eva realized she had been holding her breath, and managed to exhale as she slipped the shoes on. Where her boots had pinched and chafed, the slippers cradled her feet, like they were meant to fit only her. _

_ Eva headed back outside, but before embarking she had one last thing she had to do. _

_ Last night, after her stepfamily had fallen asleep, Eva had crept up to the attic. There, in a trunk that had been untouched for nearly a decade, she had recovered her mother’s cloak. Eva had clutched it to her face, inhaling, hoping to find something of her mother, but ended up choking on the musty scent. Despite the lavender sachets in which it had been packed, the cloak was showing more of its time locked away.  _

_ She had aired it out by the beehives, assured that the Contessa would be preoccupied during the day by the ball. And indeed, her stepmother hadn’t so much as glanced out a window, so focused had she been on Allegra and Gianna. And the cloak, after a day in the fresh air, was no longer quite so stale, though still old-fashioned in its cut. _

_ Eva pulled on the cloak now, and was struck by how well it fit. She was malnourished, to be sure, as scrawny as a young stalk of wheat, but she hadn’t considered that she was now as tall as her mother had been. _

_ Tears sprang to her eyes as she fastened the clasp, but quick as they came she blinked them away. She had to be clear eyed to steer the carriage in the growing dark. _

_ The old horse plodded into the village by rote, slowing to a halt by the agora where he usually waited. When Eva slapped the reins to urge him on, Amator tossed his head. The evening jaunt was spontaneous enough for him, but now Eva was suggesting a new route.  _

_ She was still pleading with the horse when a sound behind her caused her to jump. _

_ Convinced it was her stepmother, she turned, ready with excuses and platitudes. But behind her was a group of girls in gowns, their arms linked, making their way down the street towards the castle. The sound had been a peal of laughter. They hadn’t even noticed Eva.  _

_ Upon a second glance --and after calming her own racing heart-- Eva realized that they must have been a group of working girls. Their dresses were simple, but here and there each of them had added a personal flourish: one had white poppies woven into her hair; another’s skirt had silver embroidery in the Torragian style; two girls who Eva guessed were sisters had complementary silk scarves setting off their basic green dresses. All of them laughing merrily, their day’s labours done, ready for a rich meal and the chance to dance with a prince.  _

_ “Come on Amator,” she prodded again, and the horse finally acquiesced. “We’re going to the ball too.” _

_ *** _

Once Eva had cried all she could, Ysabella shooed the boys away. 

“Get back upstairs before they miss you, Flavio. Alfio, go see if Maestra Bagnato is free.”

Alfio scampered away. Flavio gave Ysabella a peck on the cheek before departing. The young maid blushed, then shook herself before turning back to Eva, who was wiping her tear stained face with her sleeve.

Ysabella untied her apron and handed it to Eva.

“Use this instead.” 

Eva hesitated, not wanting to impose further, but Ysabella insisted. 

“I work in the laundry. I’ll just wash it first thing in the morning.”

So Eva blew her nose and dried her eyes. Since Niccolo chose Allegra, and the Cyrican witch disappeared, it seemed she had done nothing but cry. Now, finally, it felt like all her tears were gone, the last of them soaking into this stranger’s apron. 

“Maestra Bagnato will know what to do,” Ysabella was saying. “And I’m speaking for Flavio and Alfio --none of us will tell anyone our new princess is your stepsister if you don’t want us to. You have your own reasons.” 

There were still questions burning, but Ysabella was kind enough not to address them. 

Maestra Bagnato, as it turned out, was head of the palace’s female servants, which Ysabella explained just before the stocky woman herself arrived in the scullery, little Alfio at her side.

“Now what’s in here that’s so important this time, Alfio?”

The woman stopped short the instant she spotted Eva.

“And who are you supposed to be?” The sentence was directed at Eva’s new allies as much as it was to Eva herself. 

Ysabella answered: “This is Eva,  _ Maestra _ . She works for  _ la famiglia di Angelo _ .”

Maestra Bagnato raised a brow as she looked Eva up and down, taking in her ragged dress and skinny frame. 

“ _ I _ was not informed that our new princess was bringing her own servant. In all the excitement it’s clear that much slipped through the cracks. Regardless, I cannot have you working in this place looking like this. Do you not have another dress, girl?”

Eva lowered her gaze and shook her head, banishing all thought of her dress from the ball. 

Maestra Bagnato sniffed. 

“I don’t care how you were vested out in the country, but here at the palace neatness of self is of the utmost importance. And I am sure neither you nor your mistresses intend on disgracing this place. Ysabella, take her to the maid’s room and get her a suitable uniform.” 

“ _ Grazi Maestra _ .” Eva lifted her chin and offered a smile to the woman.

“Ridiculous. I am not your  _ padrona _ .” The words could have been harsh, but they were now delivered with a softened tone. “You may call me Fausta.”

“ _ Grazi  _ Fausta _. _ ” 

And so Eva found herself not a quarter of an hour later in a fresh white linen dress, tying on an equally pristine apron. 

Eva had gasped in pain as she tried to pull off her old dress by herself, her ribs screaming at the movement. Ysabella, realizing she was having difficulty, aided Eva.The other girl had noticed every bruise and scar that Eva had, but said nothing. Ysabella had also found a strip of cloth with which they had bound her broken ankle. The final touch was a new pair of sabots, which accommodated the bound foot much better than her boots had.

“There! Maestra Bagnato will be pleased.” Ysabella picked up Eva's discarded old dress. “What would you like done with this?” 

Eva stared at the worn fabric, at the dress she had had for nearly eight years; that she had patched and mended a dozen times over, which until the ball had been her only dress. 

“I don’t care.”

She didn’t realize what she was going to say until the words had already escaped her mouth, but they felt right.

“Throw it out or use it for scraps or --or whatever you do here. I never want to wear it again.” 

Eva still wasn’t sure what was going to happen. But if she was going to find a way to win back Niccolo, she wasn’t going to do it in rags.


	5. Five.

It was late, nearing midnight. Clean, stomach full, bandaged, and feeling reinvigorated, Eva wandered out of the servants’ side of the palace and found herself standing once again in the entrance hall. 

The floor was of the finest red Azurran tile, the walls  _ affrescate _ . Two sets of ebony staircases trailed up opposing walls, meeting two levels up at a landing. Carved doors lined both the landing and the main floor, leading off to the rest of the palace, but Eva could only focus on the double doorway at the end of the wide hall: the ballroom.

Eva started towards the doors, then stopped herself. The white uniform which she now wore was nothing like the ballgown in which she had had her first encounter with this place. She turned around and headed back towards the stairs. But then, with this new attire, she felt she fit in just as well. Not as a princess yet, but maybe as a valued servant. She continued on like this, heading towards the ballroom and then changing her mind, until she was just pacing up and down the hall. Pacing and thinking.

_ Valued _ . That was a silly thought. The Contessa had never valued her. Not as a daughter, and certainly not as the slave she had made her into.

At first Eva had been happy to take on chores. The week of her father’s funeral, she scrubbed every inch of the Villa, the servants at the time giving her space to do so. She begged the laundresses, the cooks, the grooms to teach her their trades. Anything to distract her from her grief.

Then the staff began to dwindle. Contessa Viviana said there was not enough money to keep the estate and the amount of staff --on “extravagant wages”, the Contessa had exclaimed. 

The only extravagances were Contessa Viviana’s own spending habits. Eva, barely into her tenth summer at the time, did not recognize this. Now, eight summers later, she saw what her stepmother had done, but it was too late. 

None of the staff who had worked at the Villa in Eva’s childhood remained. Instead were the replacements found by her stepmother: an old gardener, Simone, whom Eva had never heard speak, despite her attempts at conversation; Tuccia, a young cook who lived in town with her eight children, and often had a handful of them in tow when she came to work; and Eva herself. 

The Contessa liked to keep up appearances on the rare occasions on which they had company, having Tuccia’s oldest daughters act as additional serving maids, but for the majority of the time it was Eva doing all the work. 

All the servants who had coddled and taught and comforted her after the death of her mother were sent away before they could help her recover from the loss of her father. She only had the chores to distract her from her sorrow, only the--

Eva hit something solid, and ricocheted back a few steps. She had been distracted by melancholia, and had not noticed one of the doors in the hall opening.

She had walked right into Niccolo. 

“I-I beg your pardon, I… I…” 

Both of the princes had emerged from the door, and Eva stammered, all the things she wanted to say to Niccolo disappearing. She did not know if she could even say them with the younger prince there as well.

Niccolo squinted at her. 

“Are you new?”

Eva nodded.  _ Does he recognize me? _ But before she could come up with a way to voice the thought, Prince Benedetto added:

“It’s just that he’s used to being called ‘Your Highness’. Doesn’t like it when people don’t use his title.”

“I beg your pardon,” Eva repeated. “Your Highness.”

_ Don’t be stupid. _ She berated herself. Of course, with her wearing the uniform, he thought she was just a palace servant.

But Niccolo cuffed his brother on the shoulder. 

“Pay no attention to him. Now,  _ are _ you new? I haven’t seen you before, have I?” He had a puzzled grin on his face. “Did you arrive for the Ladies di Angelo?”

“Well...I suppose...I arrived  _ with _ them.“

“You’re the fainting one?” Prince Benedetto asked.

Eva blushed. 

Niccolo carried on like he hadn’t heard his brother. 

“The palace can be confusing your first time around. Your mistresses are on the fourteenth floor.” He pointed up the stairs with a grin. “Left side.”

Eva curtseyed. 

“Thank you, Your Highness. My apologies again.”

She gave Prince Niccolo a smile, which he returned, albeit somewhat confused, but with a twinkle in his bright eyes. 

As she mounted the stairs, she found herself humming the waltz from the ball. The clock struck midnight.

***

_ Niccolo had guided her back into the ballroom. They were now whirling through a waltz. Eva found that, with Niccolo clutching her close to him, she was able to muddle through the steps. With this slower dance, she was right up against the prince.  _

_ His gloved hand was wrapped around her callused one, the silken blue of her dress floating around both their ankles as they spun through the dance. _

_ “You are a lovely dancer,  _ cara.”

_ “I’m only as lovely as you are,” Eva smiled as Niccolo led them in the steps. _

_ “But of course, my love.” _

_ They were in the middle of the ballroom, and more couples were dancing closer. Eva noticed the jealousy in a few of the girls nearest, jostling their partners, trying to find the opportunity to cut in and steal their own chance with the prince. _

_ Niccolo pulled her in closer. _

_ Eva leaned against him, tucking her cheek against his chest. _

_ “I have never met anyone like you,” Niccolo murmured. He nestled his head on top of hers. Eva felt every word from its origin in his chest, through the deep whispers and gentle breath that they left against her forehead.  _

_ She tilted up her chin. _

_ “You must meet hundreds of girls, Niccolo. Why am I so special?” _

_ The prince gave a low chuckle. _

_ “Because of exactly that. You have no pretension. You act like you have nothing to offer, but clearly you do.” _

_ Eva blushed. If only he knew  _ just _ how little she had. _

_ The waltz finished, and the band began to play a quicker song.  _

_ Instead of continuing to dance, Niccolo pulled ever so slightly out of the hold. _

_ Eva looked up at him, not ready to leave his arms. She never wanted to leave his arms.  _

_ “What are you thinking?” She asked him. _

_ They were now standing motionless, while other couples twirled around them. Niccolo was looking down at her, a twinkle in his bright eyes.  _

_ “Come with me. There is something else I would like to show you.” _

_ Niccolo once again led her away from the dancing, away even from the gardens. People in all degrees of finery approached, mostly women. Niccolo turned them all away with polite nods, and quick acknowledgements. He kept his hand clasped around Eva’s, guiding her through the crowd.  _

_ “Your Highness!” One woman stepped directly in their path. _

_ Gianna. _

_ Eva froze. She was finished. Her stepsister was going to expose her for the fraud she was. Niccolo would be so disappointed. He thought she was so special, but really she was nothing. She was a slave, a dirty nobody, and she had used the trick of a foreign witch to sneak in to the ball, and bewitch the prince, and she was going to lose everything now… _

_ But Gianna had eyes only for the prince. _

_ “Excuse me, my lady.” Niccolo tried to steer around her like he had the others, but Gianna stood fast.  _

_ “You are not going to dance with anyone else this evening?”  _

_ “I am quite enjoying the dancing partner I have now, my lady. And as lovely as you are, I am sure you will have no difficulty finding someone else for yourself.” _

_ Niccolo gave a short bow, finally skirting around Eva’s stepsister. Eva ducked her head, hiding behind him as best she could.  _

_ She need not have worried. Gianna had barely glanced at her. And maybe, Eva remembered, that was part of the witch’s magic.  _

_ Her silver shoes clicked against the red tile as they headed into an empty corridor.  _

_ Niccolo leaned into one of the deep set doorways and pulled Eva close to him.  _

_ “Alone again,” he murmured. _

_ Hands wrapped around her waist, the prince leaned down and kissed her, deeper than he had out in the garden.  _

_ “Niccolo, was  _ this  _ what you wanted to show me?” Eva giggled as he pulled away, relieved that they had made it past Gianna, and that she hadn’t been recognized, and that Niccolo still wanted her. _

_ “Not quite,” the prince laughed. He opened the door they had been leaning against and led her up a narrow staircase.  _

_ “My siblings and I came up here all the time when we were younger,” Niccolo explained as they mounted the stairs. “There were dozens of parties to which children --even royal ones-- were not permitted. We found a way to enjoy them nonetheless.” _

_ He pulled open a plain door, and gently pushed her ahead of him. _

_ Eva stepped out onto a narrow landing, two paces deep, five feet along. Below them was the ballroom. _

_ Niccolo joined her, pulling the door shut behind him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and guided her closer to the ledge.  _

_ “We can see everything from here,” he murmured, lips close to her ear. “But they won’t see us.” _

_ With a gentle pressure, the prince pulled Eva into a close embrace, then turned her, so she could see the wall behind them. The door they had come through blended with the fresco; the paintings up here were life-sized people in bright clothing. Niccolo was right: even if the party goers below looked up, they might at this distance mistake them for part of the fresco.  _

_ Niccolo pressed a kiss to her forehead.  _

_ “I hope I get an opportunity to show you every room in the palace, but I had to make sure you saw all my favourites this evening.” _

_ Eva could have melted.  _

_ The prince, enamoured of her. Her papà would not have believed it. _

_ Eva looked down at all the people below, their voices blending into a hum, weaving into the volta the musicians were playing. The prince was pressed against her. _

_ “It appears not everyone is enjoying themselves as much as we.” Niccolo pointed. One woman was storming out of the ballroom. Two other women were stomping along behind her. _

_ Contessa Viviana, and Allegra and Gianna. _

_ Eva gasped. _

_ She couldn’t let her stepfamily arrive home before she did. They would be demanding her to help them out of their finery, and if she wasn’t there… _

_ “I have to go.” _

_ Niccolo just looked at her. She was pulling herself away, but his hand caught hers yet again.  _

_ “The night is still young, my love.”  _

_ Eva was shaking her head. She yanked her hand from the prince’s strong grasp. She took a step, the door now against her back. _

_ “I don’t know how to explain…” _

_ “Don’t. Stay.” Niccolo stood, confused, by the ledge. _

_ “I’m sorry.” _

_ Her hand found the doorknob behind her. With one last look into Niccolo’s eyes, she opened the door, then turned and dashed down the stairs.  _

_ “Wait! Stop!” _

_ The clock struck midnight. _

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story ten years ago, when I was a child on FF.net. Now, with all this Quarantime™, I'm trying to finally finish this Cinderella story.


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